


our (true) inheritance

by lightningrani



Series: CFSWF 2015 [3]
Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Mistborn - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Bad Parenting, Gen, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Body Modification, also mentions of vomit, and allusions to graphic violence, possibly bordering on child abuse?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4364945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningrani/pseuds/lightningrani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lord Ruler's children can't wait to come into their inheritance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our (true) inheritance

**Author's Note:**

> So according to Word of Brandon, the Lord Ruler had children? I am mean to said hypothetical children. Sorry.

We were always destined to be rulers. That was what Father told us, every day.

We were born from the womb of some minor noblewomen, someone who wanted to curry favor with our father. Our father lost two lives in return for two.  He loved us at first sight.

When we were young, Father shielded us from the truth, painting our mother’s death as an accident. But as we grew older, as we became better versed in politics, we understood that others could not stand the power that our mother held over Father. They wanted her dead.

That was why he never left us leave the palace. It was too dangerous, for someone of his blood to wander the streets unarmed, and unlike him, we never inherited any abilities which could be used to protect ourselves. Our only friends were ourselves and our guards. Nobles only knew us as ghosts in the palace, rumors which no one could confirm. If no one knew if we existed, there was no one who could hurt us.

Sometimes, we would escape the palace for a few minutes, and stare outside at the falling ash in awe. We would watch the people as they walked by, on the way to handle all the affairs necessary for the government to work. Father ensured we had a good education, so we would be prepared for the day we would rule in his place.

Sometimes, we would watch our father speak to the masses, and be in awe of his presence. When he was out, everyone feared him, even us. Yes, he was our father, but all children are scared of their parents in some fashion. The best rulers are those who are both loved and feared at the same time, after all.

And now it was our turn to ascend the throne. Father was going to step down and let us take his place! We were his treasures, after all. He wanted us to experience a full life, fitting for nobility.

The guards waited for us to follow. We were wearing the best clothes we had—a dress covered in fancy embroidery, a tuxedo perfect tailored—and held each other’s hands, reminding ourselves of what we’ve done to get here, and what we had left.

The first signs of trouble was when the guards led us underground. We frowned. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

The guards didn’t answer. That was strange. They usually acknowledged our question, even if they were not allowed to tell us something, for our safety. Father must have planned something big for us if they were this quiet.

When we were led to the dungeons, we were very confused. The dungeons were where the worst of the worst lived. There was no reason our coronation would take place here. Where were the people? Where was Father?

They led us to a small, dark room, and Father sat there, waiting for us, with a door behind him. He could explain everything! Everything would be fixed! We would just walk out that door and reach our true potentials.

“Children,” Father said, a smile playing on his lips. “I am glad to see you well. Your mother would be proud of you.”

“Thank you, Father,” we said, bowing to show our respects. “What do you have planned for us?”

“Your new future awaits, behind that door,” Father said, motioning at the wall behind him.  “But, I’m afraid, there’s been a change in plans.”

We frowned. “Father?”

He sighed. “I wish there was another way—you are my flesh and blood—but it is too much of a risk. You will never comprehend what I did to get to this place. And I cannot risk losing it to you.”

“But Father—”

“I know what you will say. That you will stay loyal to me, forever, because I am your father. And I believe you, children. You have been my treasures ever since your mother bore you. But what will I do if you ever change your minds, betray me for your own power? When you have lived as long as I have, you know how fickle humans are. And you are but children. How long would you be content with this life I have given you?”

What was he saying? We would always be content with the life he gave us! He was our Father. And we told him so, but he just laughed bitterly.

“Oh, children, do you know how many times someone has told me this, only to try to stab me in the back once again? Your mother, for example. Did you know that she was planning to kill me after your birth?” We gaped at him. “Oh, yes. She had grown tired of me, and had fallen in love with another noble. What was I supposed to do with her, after she had delivered you into my arms?”

“…Father?”

“I need to ensure your loyalty to me, children. If I had to kill you like your mother, it would devastate me.  This is the only way to keep you alive?”

We scrambled back for the door, only to find it barred behind us. “Father, please, what are you saying? We will always be loyal to you! We will be good rulers in your place!”

Father laughed again, but this time, with humor. “Oh, children, you were never going to take my place. I am the Lord Ruler, and I will rule this world forever. Now,” he said, standing up and opening the door with a flourish, “be good children and walk towards your new life.”

When we didn’t move, when we stared at him in utter horror, he grabbed us roughly, dragging us through our vomit and tears. He pulled us into the room filled with spikes, the walls of the room covered in blood.

“If you walk out of this door,” he whispered, as the Steel Inquisitors started to pull us towards the blood-covered apparatus, “your loyalty will be guaranteed, and you will be more than you ever imagined. Think of the power you will have. Think of your position! And all without the stress of being the ruler of this world. This is my real gift to you, children. A life of immortality and your father’s love. What else would you want?”

He closed the door on our screams of protest. Did he hear them turn into screams of pain?

Did he even care?

We held onto each other’s hands for as long as possible, before our hands were forcefully pulled apart, before we blacked out from the pain. We were each other’s blood. We would never betray each other.

Not like him.  


End file.
